“Close your eyes and focus inwardly. Picture where you’re at. Take a good look but then close your eyes and reach out with your senses. Smell the air. Listen to not only the water but the other sounds around you. Feel the mist on your skin and the warmth of the air.
“Push the pain and the fear and the anxiety out of your mind. Focus on your sister and on that path that you’ve used for so many years. It’s still there, Grace. You just have to find it again.”
Her eyes became gritty and hot. She was tempted to rub them but didn’t want to express more emotion than she already had.
Rio touched her face as if he understood. “I don’t claim to know much about telepathy. Hell, I didn’t even know it existed outside of movies until I met Shea. But I do understand mind over matter. I understand that to be strong, your mind has to be strong and focused. It has to heal just like your body had to heal. The mind is a very peculiar thing. Your brain has a way of protecting itself and you from complete devastation. You were at your limit, so it shut down as a protective measure. Now you just have to give it time to heal and for those pathways to your sister to reopen.”
“Do you really think it will work?” she whispered, afraid to hope, but already feeling the stirring deep in her heart. That little burst of excitement that she couldn’t control.
Hope was such a gift and a curse all rolled into one.
“There are many who would sneer at things like meditation. But the strongest warrior knows that his body is only as strong as his mind. A physically weaker person can defeat a much stronger opponent if he’s stronger mentally.”
She reached up to tentatively touch his cheek as he’d done with her. “How do you know so much? It makes so much sense when you explain it. I don’t feel so…crazy.”
He smiled. “You aren’t crazy, Grace. You’re just damaged. But you’re a survivor and you’ll get through this.”
She turned to face the falls again, feeling more…confident. A little lighter and, yes, optimistic. When was the last time she’d felt hope?
She gazed around, memorizing every detail of the little slice of heaven, and then she did as Rio had told her and she closed her eyes, channeling all of her focus inward.
“Control your breathing,” he murmured. “In, out, deep. Hold it. Relax and let it out. Focus on each part of your body relaxing and then make it happen.”
His voice dimmed and became distant. She held on to the image of her beautiful surroundings and then she inhaled, sucking in the scentg ik? of the water, the plants, even the dirt and then a faint sweet smell, like an exotic flower.
Gradually she was able to separate the roar of the water from the other sounds and she concentrated on those. Birds. Insects. Even what sounded like a monkey in the distance. Lots of birds. She began to differentiate the calls, picking out at least half a dozen different bird sounds.
She turned her face upward, feeling the light mist blow over her skin, cooling and refreshing her.
And finally she reached inside her mind, tentatively pushing out, searching for that pathway to her sister. The blackness was intimidating, but she didn’t give up.
For several long minutes she forced herself to remain calm. She floated in that darkness that enveloped her mind and tried to make peace with it.
The longer she sat there, the less overpowering the darkness and silence became. Instead of feeling powerless and terrified, peace settled over her like the sun on a warm summer afternoon.
She grabbed on to it. Held tight. Refused to let go and reimmerse herself in the horrors of the last months.
To be free even for a moment of the choking fear, despair and frustration was to spend a few seconds in heaven.
She had no knowledge of how long she sat there. It could have been hours or just a few minutes. When she reopened her eyes, she found Rio still sitting where he’d been, staring into the distance. Patient. Waiting for her.
As if feeling her gaze, he turned his head and then lifted one eyebrow in question. “Feel a little better?”
“You’re amazing, Rio. You would have made a terrific therapist or maybe a yoga instructor or someone specializing in meditation. Or something. Heck, I don’t even know myself. I’m having the hardest time reconciling this man here with me now with the warrior who rescued me from hell. I can’t fit the two together in my mind.”
“We’re human too,” he said, though there was no censure in his voice. “All of my men. They’re the best of the best. No better anywhere. I’d stake my life and yours on that. But they also have a very human side, one that has nothing to do with blood and death and fear.”
“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” she said regretfully.
“How is your head now? Still hurt? Are you tense?”
She took a moment to evaluate and then slowly shook her head. “I’m fine. Truly. I feel…sorta empty. It’s nice. Like nothing weighing down on me.”
“That’s good. The next step is to talk about it.”
Startled, she yanked her gaze back up to him. “Talk about it? You really are starting to sound like some armchair psychologist.”
He ignored the defensive reaction and tilted his head to the side, staring until she fidgeted on the makeshift bench.
“What were you going to say earlier? When the guys were asking you about everything that happened. You implied that they didn’t really take care with you until…Until what, Grace? What happened to make them realize they were slowly killing you?”
She dropped her head, shame immediately crowding into her mind. She closed her eyes tight as if she could push away the memories. But they clung tenaciously, a cruel reminder of the person she’d become for that short time.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked. “They can’t hurt you now. You survived. They didn’t break you.”
“But they did!” she burst out.
Tears burned until she no longer had the strength th brto fight them. They were like trails of acid down her cheeks, and she choked back the urge to scream. God, she wanted to just yell.
Rio took her hand, softly turned it over until her palm was up, and she instantly tried to yank it back. He held firm, his grip not painful, but neither was it relenting.
He traced a path across the thin, fading line over her wrist. It had taken a long time to heal, so savage the wound had been. She curled her fingers into a tight fist, her wrist flexing in his grasp. She closed her eyes as if she would simply will him to drop the subject.